


Thoughts and Feelings

by Awn (Skye1456)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Optronix is creepy and doesn't realize it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23287336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skye1456/pseuds/Awn
Summary: Optronix revels in every chance he gets to spend time with Megatron.
Relationships: Megatron/Optronix (Transformers), Ultra Magnus/Treadshot, implied Optronix/Elita One
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lmao this was supposed to be a one shot but then I got invested. We're in Shattered Glass luvs, some things just ain't right.

Optronix’s day has been torturously bland, so seeing his beloved mathematician show up at his place of work is a surprise he welcomes even more than usual. 

Megatron doesn’t notice his watcher, his focus set intently on scouring the archives before him. Peeking his helm out from behind the edge of the shelf Megatron’s searching, Optronix takes this rare opportunity to observe the beautiful silver mech as he is on his lonesome.

As discreetly as he can, Optronix raises his personal data pad and begins recording. Even as an archivist, even one with his connections, Optronix’s sizeable collection of records on Megatron doesn’t contain many quiet moments like this. At least, not ones this genuine. Megatron is a wonderful professor with many adoring students, as well as an outgoing mech with many friends. 

Optronix can’t relate, only adding insult to injury to the fact that the object of his affection—who lives and works several cities away—is practically never alone. He’s constantly surrounded by other bots. Other bots that _aren’t Optronix_. 

No matter. When Optronix becomes the Head Archivist he’d have unfettered access to the Hall’s groundbridge, soundly fixing the ‘long distance’ issue in their relationship. When that time comes, not even Alpha Trion would be able to keep him away anymore, try though he surely will. 

Of course, there are still a couple of mechs standing between him and that esteemed position, and it would still be a few more cycles before they were dealt with. Until then, Optronix would grit his dentae behind his facemask and be content with things as they are. 

Through the lens of his data pad Optronix zooms in on the browsing mech. Megatron raises an arm to take an archive down from the shelf. He opens it, and even as an avid bibliophile, Optronix has never found the act of reading so hot. 

Optronix zooms in further, hoping to catch glints of Megatron’s pretty blue optics as they flit back and forth. Perhaps it’s due to the growing heat in his frame, but the archivist must be leaning in a bit too much, as it was then that Megatron finally notices him. The black helm turns and Optronix is given a full frontal view of Megatron’s beautiful face, surprised though the expression on it is. 

“Optronix?” Megatron speaks. Optronix tempers a giddy shudder. He hasn’t heard Megatron’s voice in person in weeks. “What are you doing?” 

“Working.” Optronix answers easily, promptly saving his recording and subspacing the data pad. At last, the librarian emerges from his spot and saunters over to the professor. Or at least, those first three steps were some piss poor attempt at sauntering before Optronix gave up. 

Ultra Magnus made it look so easy. Damn, as if Optronix needed yet another reason to hate his elder brother. 

Well, Optronix can’t stay in a bad mood for long. He stands in Megatron’s presence, and oh what a presence it is. 

The silver mech towers over the violet and black archivist. In fact, if they were in an Iaconian crowd Megatron would probably tower over most of them. Even in Polyhex, where he works, Megatron sticks out like a broken axle amongst the higher forged bots.

He’d removed the old brands and threatening decals, altered his armour to soften his silhouette, and has spent many many cycles tirelessly cultivating a reputation as a gentle giant with the kindest spark you would ever come across. 

And he is, Megatron truly is as kind as he portrays himself to be. However, if you were to examine him closely—and Optronix had, many times, _very_ closely—you wouldn’t be surprised to discover that he’d once been a miner frame turned gladiator—the infamous Beast of Kaon. 

Megatron actively hides his past with good reason, staunchly looking ahead and steadily moving forward. But to Optronix—who’d spent so many continuous cycles researching and uncovering this knowledge that his body had nearly been forced into energy conserving stasis—knowing that this kind and tender math teacher could also tear out the beating spark of predacon with his bare servos, fills the archivist with a type of lust and longing he had never realized he was capable of. Not at all during their brief trysts had even Elita One made him feel that way.

“What are you doing?” Optronix asks. 

Megatron glances down at the tome in his large servo before closing it and putting it back. He looks sideways at Optronix, shooting him a sly smile. 

“Research.” He answers curtly. 

Optronix leans against the shelf. “By yourself? Why didn’t you contact me?” 

_I could have been with you right from the start._

Megatron shrugs. “I was going to. But I suppose I just…wanted to be alone for a little while. And the hall is so peaceful, it makes for a wonderful place to contemplate.”

Behind his facemask Optronix frowns. _The Hall? Peaceful? To the public surely_ , Optionix thinks, though he doesn’t say any of that. He would hate to burden his beloved with the menial squabbling politics of the Iaconian information holders. He’d overhaul and reform it all when he was in charge anyways.

Instead, he says softly, “I’m sorry for disturbing you then.”

“No no not at all. Optronix, you’re never a disturbance. Not to me.” 

Optronix feels like he could melt from happiness right then and there. Then, genuinely concerned, he took Megatron’s considerably larger servo in both of his own. 

“Will you tell me what’s wrong then, my love?”

Megatron smiles. A small, soft one overflowing with affection. 

“Oh, nothing’s terribly wrong. Just a little stressed I suppose.” He sighs. “The environment in Polyhex—it’s getting worse.”

“What’s getting worse?” Optronix presses. 

Raising his lowered gaze, Megatron allows the blue gems that are his optics to meet with Optronix’s bright crimson ones. 

“Functionism.” He says at last. 

Optronix understands him immediately, his grip tightening around his beloved’s. 

In a low growl, Optronix asks, “Have they done anything to you?”

Megatron shakes his helm. “Not directly anyways. The university protects me, but I fear that with the way things are going, they may begin to corrupt the institution as well.”

“I thought universities were meant to be foundations for _progressive_ thinking.” Optronix hisses. 

“They are, Optronix. Especially the University of Polyhex.” Megatron’s expression hardens, his optics brightening with conviction. “And that way it will remain, if I have anything to say about it.”

“But that’s not enough is it?” Optronix says pessimistically. “The issue lies in the philosophy itself. Functionism needs to die.”

“I thought it had.” Megatron whispers, dejected.

Optronix leans in closer, stealing a glance at the section they’re in. “Is that why you’re here? Researching philosophy?” 

“Well, trying to research the history of philosophies on Cybertron. Cycles and all that, you know. But I’m woefully ill talented for this.” Megatron drags his servo across several archives. He turns back to the archivist inches away from his chest. “I suppose that’s part of why I cherish you so much.”

Optronix chuckles. “Maybe if history were a numerical equation you’d have better luck, eh?” 

“Indeed…yeah…huh, there’s an idea.”

Optronix knows exactly what it looked like when Megatron latched onto an idea. The archivist could practically see the gears turning as this train of thought began to form.

Before long, Megatron is smiling. He turns to Optronix, grasping the smaller mech’s face and bending down. Swiftly, Optronix retracts his mask and allows their lips to meet. The kiss is deep and passionate, but just as Optronix attempts to extend his glossa, Megatron’s lips are gone, and Optronix’s mask intuitively latches back into place. 

_No!_ He wants to shout, his frame getting hotter and interface protocols onlining. _More!_

“Optronix you are wonderful!” Megatron exclaims, clearly unaware of the effect he has on his lover. With nary another word, he turns to make his way out. 

“Megatron!” Optronix cries, louder than he meant to. He follows after Megatron. “Where are you going?”

“I have to get back to Polyhex!” He answers cheerfully. “I have calculations to do, and I’ll need Soundwave to help me run simulations!” 

“But didn’t you just get here?” Optronix says, trying not to whine. 

Megatron halts. He turns back to embrace the archivist. Optronix takes it in stride, savouring the warm tenderness that surrounds him. It’s gone much too soon.

“I’m onto something Optronix, thanks to you. I just need to take advantage of this flow as soon as possible, while its fresh. I’ll be back as soon as I have something.” 

With that, Megatron hurries through the hall, past all of its many rows until turning a corner and disappearing from Optronix’s sight. 

Optronix is left standing there, cooling fans kicking in as no release would reach him, watching helplessly as the light of his life leaves as soon as it had returned to him. 

He’s unsure of exactly how long he’d stood there dumbfounded and concupiscent, but his stupor is cut short by a voice from behind him.

“Do you not have duties to attend to?”

Optronix whips around to see Alpha Trion looming behind him. The Hall’s Overseer and Great Scribe of Iacon, and Optronis’s “guardian” staring down at his ward with great displeasure. 

“Yes, I was just—“

“Fraternizing with the mathematician again.” Alpha Trion interrupts. “It is one thing to do so in your off hours—“ _Not that you approve of even that much._ “—but you have a job, Optronix. Or do you not still desire to be the Head Archivist?”

If looks could kill, well, then the ancient bastard would have been long dead ten times over, but now especially. 

“I do not have to drown myself in work to be Head Archivist.” Optronix snaps. 

“But standing in the middle of a floor like a braindead, lovesick twit will get you no work done at all.” Alpha Trion replies evenly. 

Optronix clenches his fists so hard it feels like he’ll break his digits. Before he can return with a cutting retort, the scribe is already walking past him, staff clacking obnoxiously against the pristine marble floor. 

“Get back to work Optronix.”

————

The second moon is in mid-rise by the time he returns to his apartment. It's been a long day and Optronix is in a sour mood. He’s thankful for his quiet, humble abode. Moving out of Alpha Trion’s estate had been one of his best—and easiest—decisions. 

He prepares himself a cube of energon, downs it, and then unceremoniously collapses onto his berth. 

Left alone in his own head, Optronix’s thoughts turn back to Megatron. Thinking about him. Missing him. 

Optronix scowls, suddenly being reminded of his brother. 

He’d never understood Ultra Magnus’s obsession with his own lover. Magnus’s mind seemed to be permanently consumed by thoughts of Treadshot. Fragger could never stop talking about him. 

_I love Treadshot so much. He’s wonderful. So beautiful and sweet. I miss him so much when we’re apart. I get so worried, what if something happens to him when I’m not there? I’d feel better if we were always together. I want to collar him up and keep him chained to my side._

Optronix would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little bad for Treadshot, having to now actually live with his brother. At least Magnus doesn’t have to sneak out and break into any buildings in order to watch his beloved recharge anymore. 

Defiantly, Optronix shakes his helm. He’s not like his brother. He doesn’t want a pet. He loves Megatron exactly for who he is, and for who he was. 

Megatron is truly amazing, and he makes Optronix feel even better—

His frame gets hot again and Optronix shudders. Damn, he’d gotten charged up when he saw Megatron earlier and never got that release. And he wouldn’t get it for a while—at least not from Megatron himself. 

Optronix sits up. After a moment, he retrieves his data pad from his subspace. He turns it on, bringing up the collection of videos and images of Megatron he keeps for himself. 

The growing heat behind his interface panels is becoming unbearable. He removes them, plunging his digits into his slick valve while his other servo swipes through the compilation. 

He is not like Ultra Magnus. He is _not_ obsessed with the professor from Polyhex. But...he's allowed to miss the one he loves so long as he doesn’t go too far. He’s allowed to cherish the images he has of him. He’s allowed to find pleasure from those images. 

His love. His Megatron. 

Optronix can’t wait to see him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I'm just writing whatever comes to mind. I have an end goal, but it gets farther and farther away every time I think of something interesting to write. So, there's gonna be even more chapters. Enjoy.

Optronix watches the footage on his screen with a mix of disbelief and ecstasy. 

The video is grainy, clearly taken on a low quality recorder. Whoever’s recording is being pushed around and can’t seem to stay still. Bots keep walking and jumping in front the lens and the audio is something akin to atrocious. 

And still…Optronix can’t believe his optics. He can’t believe his luck! He’s uncovered real footage of the Beast of Kaon in his prime. 

A video of his sweet and lovely Megatron back when he was a merciless gladiator. 

Truly a stroke of luck. Optronix had been scouring through the old records in the Pits of Kaon on the Grid as part of his work. There’s so much unorganized information there because most of his peers—most of his caste—don’t care about those regions. Optronix had hoped to compile and file away information that he could take advantage of. This isn’t his first time diving into this side of the Grid either, it’s just that he hasn’t been this deep before. Then imagine his surprise…

There aren’t many videos such as these. From what Optronix can tell, information on Megatron from before his employment at the University of Polyhex had been more or less scrubbed from the Grid. There are short clips, still images, but no extended recordings of entire fights like this one. 

That’s a mystery Optronix has been looking to uncover. Megatron is brilliant but he doesn’t have the capabilities for such a massive and complex information scrub. Only an archivist of Optronix’s caliber, or a high capacity Grid drone would have the means and knowledge to perform such a feat. 

That’s something Optronix has been meaning to inquire Megatron about. For now however, Optronix is absolutely enraptured.

He’s in his own office, protected by privacy blinders and noise cancelling walls, so no one can hear him mewl in excitement. 

Megatron is fighting against a Badland Born tank mech. The Badland Born are old, hulking, monstrous war machines. There aren’t many still functioning in the modern age. While they’ve clearly been worn down by years of maltreatment and gladiatorial matches, this one still stands at least three heads above their opponent. Speaking of…

Optronix’s vents hitch as he finally gets a clear look at the Megatron of old. The old corrupted files of stills he dug up from the Grid just don’t do him justice. Optronix can absolutely recognize the Beast of Kaon as Megatron of Polyhex, but the differences are so jarring. 

The Megatron in the footage dons thick, spiked armour that juts out dangerously in all directions. It’s mismatched though, different shades of silver, grey, black and other miscellaneous colours, one shoulder rises higher than the other and only one of his knees is significantly covered. Clearly a haphazard collection of pieces he’d found around the junk. Across himself are sharp patterns of bright pink and dark blue— _gladiator decals_ , Optronix deduces. If the image were clearer, perhaps he’d be able to make out old Kaonian runes for terms like ‘blood’ and ‘kill all’. He wields a long flail and a short sword. 

Optronix presses his face closer, trying to make out the details of his face. He can only just see the blue of his optics, and he thinks that some collection of pixels close to the bottom half of his face could be his bared dentae. 

Even if he can barely see his face, Optronix finds the image of this old version of his beloved to be astonishing. He’s still beautiful, a different kind of beautiful, a feral kind of beautiful. 

Optronix’s servo hovers over his hot—but still closed—interface panel. 

There’s some kind of announcement made, the fight begins, and oh, it takes every ounce of Optronix’s willpower not to remove his panels right then and there in his office. There may be privacy measures but Optronix can’t trust that Alpha Trion doesn’t have ways of overriding them as Overseer. Or worse, he could walk in on Optronix doing something… _unseemly_. 

It wouldn’t be the first time. 

So Optronix has to hold himself together, shaking and hot and so charged up he feels as though he could overload just by watching the grainy video. 

And the fight is only just beginning. 

The two warriors clash. A fearsome dance of violence and strength. The Badland Born, who doesn’t have any weapons, swings their massive fists like war hammers. Megatron dodges them, fiercely attacking while the slower and heavier mech recovers their position before backing away again. 

Optronix can make out some boos emanating from the crowd. Calling for more direct fighting.

 _He’s fighting smart you idiots,_ Optronix thinks. 

The fight goes on, until at last, the Badland Born thrusts his arm forward in an attempt to grab Megatron, who jumps and uses it to launch himself up towards his opponent’s face. Close enough, he plunges his sword deep into one of the optics of the Badland Born. Then in a single movement, he throws out his flail and crawls behind their head, straddling them, wrapping the chain around their throat before pulling it back. 

At this point the fighters have moved closer to the recorder. Close enough that Optronix can actually make out Megatron’s expressions. His arms shake as he tightens the hold around his opponent’s throat, something akin to glee growing on his face. His optics are wide and wild, focused wholly on his opponent. A type of fixation Optronix had never before seen on Megatron. 

Optronix gropes his own neck cables, a feeling suspiciously familiar to envy rising in his spark. 

Megatron says something. “Yield?”

It’s a question. The Badland Born doesn’t seem to answer. 

“Yield?” He repeats, and again receives no answer. 

Then Megatron’s face splits into a wide smile. He forces the other gladiator’s head back, twisting his neck at an unnatural angle. Optronix thinks he hears a crack as Megatron removes himself from the collapsed mech. 

But the Badlands Born isn’t dead yet. They’re still moving, slight though it is. Megatron stands up, enthusiastically using his pede to stamp the short sword still lodged in the optic socket even further. Energon sprays pink across Megatron’s leg, splattering across his frame. He continues until there’s a pitiful squelch, and then he backs off. 

The crowd goes wild, and Megatron runs around the arena, roaring, basking in his victory and the ensuing praise. Eventually he makes his way back to the arena and is facing the recorder. His arms are high in the air, his body stained by Energon splatter, and a wide, vicious, elated smile on his face. 

It’s Megatron. It’s his beloved Megatron. It’s his beloved Megatron as a personification of rage and violence. 

“I want that.” Optronix whispers, servos now picking at his throat. 

What he wants exactly, he doesn’t know. What he is certain of, however, is that he needs to talk to Megatron. 

That, and he needs to rewatch the footage in the privacy of his own home. 


End file.
